


Retribution; Restitution

by ironicpalmtree



Series: It's a love-hate relationship [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Gavin's a wee bit angry, Healthy amount of salt, Last chapter is pure fluff, M/M, Temporary Character Death, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:10:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpalmtree/pseuds/ironicpalmtree
Summary: “We’ll protect each other.” He whispered, sighing in relief as he felt Ryan begin to relax. “We always do.”---“If you don’t tell me everything right now – and I mean everything – I will shoot you in the neck.”





	1. Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Once again it's 1:28 am and I've only proofread this once - so please tell me if you find a mistake.
> 
> Also thought I'd bring the boys down under, I thought that I'd probably find it a lot easier describing my own home turf than every other obscure location I decide to send them to. So thus I'll warn you to not make the same mistake I did when I first went there - it's pronounced Coojee but it's spelt Coogee.
> 
> Hope you enjoy - I promise the second chapter will be out quite soon.

Chapter ONE: Ashes to Ashes

 

The steady tramp of boots against concrete rang in Ryan’s ears, creating a matching rhythm with his own ragged breathing.

The agent was crouched behind a wooden ammo crate, listening and waiting for the long line of guards to pass through the corridor. Their march seemed endless to Ryan and time began to slip away from him; it was as if hours had passed by in only an instant.

When he finally realised that silence had settled on the facility his knees had locked up and his thighs burned with the effort of remaining crouched. He stepped cautiously from his cover, eyes flicking to every part of the gloomy hallway. Shadows seemed to stick to the walls, twisting and growing until they reached out for Ryan, snagging at his ankles and wrists.

He felt sluggish, lethargic – as if his body no longer obeyed the frantic requests of his brain. Ryan struggled to move forward and his fingers felt thick and clumsy as they pushed off the safety of his pistol. Panic began to rise in Ryan’s throat; his stomach roiled with his unease and his airways seemed to close-up entirely.

His instinctual fear felt bone deep. Something was very, very wrong.

A shrill scream pierced the night air and Ryan recognised the voice immediately. 

He was instantly freed from whatever oppressive force had been holding him back and Ryan sprinted towards the commotion. He paid no heed to any that he passed, ducking occasionally to dodge the bullets that were sent his way. 

An iron door appeared at the end of the hallway, looming larger than life as Ryan sped his way towards it. He couldn’t stop himself as he was propelled into the cold metal surface and he stretched his arms out in front of him in a feeble attempt to lessen the impact. 

His hands and then the rest of his body passed through the door as if it was made of water and Ryan tumbled to the ground, ending his flight in a heap of tangled limbs.

He lifted his head as a dark chuckle sounded above him – the chilling sound was strangely familiar.

The room Ryan had fallen into was filled with men. The agent quickly scanned the faces that looked down upon him and found that he recognised all of them. He frowned, confused and suddenly quite afraid. All these men were meant to be dead; he was - well at least he had thought he was - responsible for all their deaths.

In fact, he could still see the gruesome wounds he had left upon their bodies. Quite a few had a round hole between their eyes, surrounded by dried blood and bruises. Others had rips in their shirts; the gaping tears revealing the multiple stab wounds that littered their bodies. 

And in the middle of all these dead men was Gavin; tied up and gazing desperately at Ryan with huge, tear-filled eyes. Ryan pushed himself up weakly, uttering a groan as he reached for his partner. A boot swung into his vision, snapping his wrist and shoving Ryan back down to the ground.

A hand settled in his hair, pulling his head up sharply. A knee in his back held him in place even as the men converged on Gavin. They handled him roughly, their hands staining him with dark blood as they pushed him into an upright position. Ryan let out a yell as a knife was pulled from a coat pocket. Gavin’s terrified eyes met his as the blade was shoved up between his ribs and into his heart. He jerked violently, a harsh gurgling sound rattling from his throat. Crimson liquid spilled out from between his lips and then he fell forward, thrashing once more before lying still.

Ryan screamed in anguish, fighting against the grip that left him pinned to the floor. He felt a dozen sights aimed at him before they all fired at once – a crack of thunder in the night. The bullets tore through his skin like paper, paying no heed to bone or sinew. Ryan welcomed the pain, letting it burn to an intensity that left him feeling nothing at all.

He felt oddly peaceful as he died.

‘So this is what retribution feels like.’

***

Ryan jerked awake, hands scrabbling for the pistol that was stashed under his pillow. His fingers closed around the cool outer-casing of the firearm and he wrenched it upwards, swinging it wildly around his bedroom. 

His bare chest was heaving, drenched in sweat as it was. He frantically gazed around the room once more before allowing himself to relax. He dropped the gun on his side table before swinging his legs around to the edge of the bed.

The agent stood shakily, reaching out to the wall of the bedroom for support. He stooped to snag a pair of boxers from the floor before stumbling his way into the bathroom. His wrist twisted violently as he turned the faucet on, the rush of cold water seeming thunderous in his ears. He plunged his hands into the pool that was forming in his sink before splashing the water onto his face.

The chill seemed to erase the shivers from his limbs and return his missing clarity. He gazed at himself in the mirror - the gloom of pre-dawn light made his face seem gaunt and almost skeletal. The longer he stared into those haunted blue eyes the more he convinced himself that he might actually be dead. He tore himself away from his ghostly reflection, wiping his face on a towel before shuffling his way back to the bed.

He collapsed onto the mattress – muscles feeling strained and tight as if he had been tensed all night. His heart was thumping heavily in his chest and his mind raced uncontrollably. Ryan reached out for Gavin’s prone form, wrapping his arms around the other’s warm waist and burying his nose in the Brit’s hair.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of musk and fresh grass that always seemed to accompany his partner. His pulse began to slow as he strove to match his breathing with Gavin’s. He threaded their fingers together, squeezing lightly as he felt himself fall back into the waiting clutches of his dreams.

******************

“You alright love?”

Ryan was snapped from his reverie as Gavin’s concerned face swum before him. The Brit was kneeling on the bed in front of him, dressed for bed in a soft t-shirt and worn boxers. Ryan struggled to keep his breathing regular and gave the Brit a jerky nod before standing to change out of his own clothes.

The clock read 11:19 pm and the lateness of the hour left Ryan feeling cold with dread. He undressed quickly before lying back down on the bed. He lay in a rigid position, on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. He stared blankly at the ceiling, swallowing thickly as Gavin turned out the lights and lay beside him.  
He knew that other agent could tell something was wrong – but he flat out refused to address it. He was being stupid, irrational and he couldn’t allow himself to verbally acknowledge that he had such an insubstantial fear.

A soft kiss was placed upon his cheek before Gavin snuggled up against his side. A quiet ‘goodnight’ was murmured into his ear before the Brit’s breathing began to deepen and soft snores filled the bedroom.

Now, surrounded by inky darkness and a heavy silence, Ryan could admit he was afraid.

Sleep was not an escape for him anymore. Behind the veil of his dreams he would only find blood and torment. Ghosts of the past that had returned to torture him when he was most vulnerable. He could feel his heart beating faster as he began to dwell upon his latest nightmares and he shook his head violently – willing the blood-stained visions away.

He curled himself around Gavin, taking comfort in his solid warmth. He settled into an uneasy slumber, afraid and unwilling to subject himself to the people that lay waiting within the vestiges of his subconscious.

*********************

“Ryan, you get a million dollars…”

Ryan released an exasperated grunt, not even turning to face Gavin who was in the seat beside him.

“…But every time we have sex your toenails fall off.”

Ryan opened one eye, hoping that his irritation was conveyed through his half-complete glare. The plane passengers that sat next to the pair stirred uncomfortably, but then Ryan assumed that this was Gavin’s aim in the first place.

“Sure.” He stated, allowing a small smirk to grace his features, “I don’t really like having sex with you anyway.”

Gavin let out an offended scoff at that, although Ryan could see that devious little grin was still firmly set upon his face – probably because the middle-aged man beside him had just let out an unusually loud gasp before jamming his headphones in.

“Enough of your shit.” Ryan grumbled, reaching out for the Brit and pulling him sideways so that the man was half in his own seat and half in Ryan’s. “We’ve got eight hours left of this flight and I want to sleep for at least half of it.”

***  
The day was incredibly hot.

A fact that Ryan had noticed the moment they had stepped from the airport and into the thick, humid atmosphere.

It was reminiscent of some unbearable summer nights that the agent had endured while in Austin, although he could never recall this type of heat being present in the middle of autumn.

‘Spring.’ He reminded himself, breathing in the baked Australian air. Gavin called excitedly from within the interior of a taxi and Ryan hefted his backpack onto his shoulder before sliding into the air-conditioned cab.

“George Street.” He instructed.

The taxi-driver nodded curtly, pulling out of the car-space and inching slowly through the airport traffic.

Ryan sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing into the worn upholstery of the back seat. Gavin babbled beside him, shoving on his shoulder roughly as the arched form of the harbour bridge came into view. The boyish light that shone from his partner’s eyes drew a soft smile to Ryan’s face and he moved closer to the window to share in Gavin’s innocent wonder.

They caught a glimpse of the roiling green harbour and the graceful curves of the opera house before they were once again enclosed in a jungle of soaring concrete spires and mighty towers of glass.

They reached the hotel surprisingly quickly given the mass of cars that choked the inner-Sydney streets and Ryan wasted no time collapsing face first into the mattress.

Faintly, he registered that Gavin was unpacking and setting up his equipment – an assortment of laptops and hard drives he had dragged with him from Austin. Eventually the rustling ceased and a prickle on Ryan’s neck alerted him to the fact that he was being watched.

He rolled onto his back, cracking open his heavy lids so he could squint at the Brit that stood at the edge of the king-sized bed.

After several moments of expectant silence Ryan grumbled out a “what?” before groaning as a devilish grin split Gavin’s features.

The younger agent slowly crawled onto the bed, stopping between Ryan’s outstretched legs. “You know…” he began, voice all but a throaty purr, “I don’t think I’ve ever shagged someone in Australia.” Forest green eyes raised to meet Ryan’s hungry gaze, “I think it’s high time I fixed that.”

Ryan reached forward, pulling Gavin on top of him and growling as their lips met. 

“Agreed.”

******************

“Gavin!” Ryan snapped, kicking out his leg in the Brit’s general direction, “Flipping three coins for the expressed purpose of getting three heads is a complementary event – it’s obviously a probability of 12.5%!”

The Brit’s giggles only served to deepen his scowl and he jammed his rifle back into position on the edge of the rooftop. Through the sniper scope he could see three men waiting on an adjacent roof – they were dressed in dark clothes and he could make out the faint shape of a pistol shoved into the waistband of their jeans.

“But -” Gavin began, unable to contain his sniggering, “It’s 50% every time innit? So it’s a 50% chance of getting three heads and 50% for three tails.”

Ryan almost screamed. He somehow managed to contain himself, lest he give away their position and instead turned to Gavin and raised his middle finger. “Oh my fucking god, there’s more than two fucking combinations you absolute fucking idiot, how do you even -”

He broke off as two more men emerged on the roof, motioning urgently to Gavin to start his surveillance. The grin instantly disappeared from Gavin’s face as he put his headphones in and turned towards the laptop that was balanced precariously upon an AC unit.

Through the scope, Ryan could see the silhouette of Gavin’s drone hover closely above the party on the distant rooftop. Gavin hummed in concentration as he struggled to get the machine within range of the five men’s conversation without simultaneously alerting them to his presence.

All was quiet for a minute as Gavin listened intently to the words of the men they were spying on. Without turning he whispered to Ryan; “Dark blue shirt, the one with the side-burns.” Ryan immediately slowed his breathing, automatically moving the gun until the sights rested steadily over the man’s unusually large head. 

He held his breath, emptying his mind of all other thoughts. He tensed his entire body, finger pressing down on the trigger before the bullet was released with a muffled crack. 

Before the target had properly slumped to the floor Ryan was pulling back from the edge of the roof, disassembling the rifle and crawling over to the maintenance lift that Gavin was keeping open. He could hear cries of panic from the four other men as their comrade fell before them, resting in an ever-widening pool of blood. Ryan allowed himself a grim smile as the metal doors slid shut and their confused yelling was replaced with the whir of the old elevator gears.

***

Ryan and Gavin walked casually down the bustling main street, awash in the sharp stench of cheap beer and assailed by the drunken laughter that seemed to ebb and flow with the wind. 

Nightfall had brought a welcome change to the coastal city and a brisk breeze tugged at their hair as the partners made their way down to the beach.

Their contact had not yet arrived and the two men settled upon the concrete steps that led down to a wide strip of pale sand. The moon’s light was feeble and the ocean appeared to be an inky abyss before them. Ryan may have mistaken it for an extension of the starless night sky if not for the white crests of breaking waves and the continuous rumble that followed as they crashed against the sand.

“What is this place call again?” Gavin murmured, huddling himself closer to Ryan’s warmth.

“Coogee beach.” Ryan answered equally as quietly, his deep voice almost melding with the soft thunder of the waves. Time passed slowly as they gazed out towards the horizon. In the distance Ryan could see the faint outline of two towering headlands, ringing the beach like the jaws of an enormous beast.

The shadows that danced along the flat expanse of sand reminded Ryan of his dreams. He felt the ghostly pull of the silhouettes upon his ankles and wrists, keeping him stuck in place – unable to run, unable to hide.

The scuff of a boot sounded behind them and Ryan jerked as if he had been stung. He pulled his pistol from his waistband and turned to face the intruder, shoving Gavin behind him at the same time.

The Brit let out a confused noise before struggling out of the older agent’s protective hold and rising gracefully to meet their contact. Ryan, for his part, remained frozen in place – gun aimed at the stranger’s head. 

The man in question stared back at him with an expression of amusement. He was younger than Ryan expected, with curly auburn hair and highly intelligent eyes. They continued to size each other up for a moment before the Australian turned towards Gavin.

“I hear the mission was a success.” Gavin nodded, pulling his phone from his back pocket even as the contact procured his own. “I expect you’ll be wanting the software we promised then.” His accent left a greater emphasis on certain sounds, lengthening some vowels and hardening the ends of words. Ryan mused on this silently as the man passed Gavin a micro-USB; the Brit murmured a quiet thanks.

Once the data transfer was completed the ASIO agent bade them farewell before melting back into the shadows of the night. Gavin cast Ryan a curious glance as they began walking back up the hill, but he ignored it. 

Gavin opened his mouth as they made it to the hire car Ryan had left parked some ways from the beach but the older man cut him off.

“It was nothing.”

The Brit closed his mouth, though the firm set of his jaw showed plainly that he had not let the issue go.

******************

Gavin glanced nervously at Ryan across the table – the agent seemed furious as he glared at Geoff.

The quartermaster shifted uncomfortably under Ryan’s murderous scrutiny, avoiding his eyes and choosing instead to examine his own neatly trimmed fingernails.

A file lay open in front of Gavin; the detailed brief for their next mission. Gavin couldn’t see the problem with what Geoff had given them – their destination was a densely-populated town in Columbia called Medellin, their target one of the many drug cartels that RT agencies wrestled with in South America.

Eventually Geoff could no longer bear the tension that was building in the briefing room and elected to address the issue head on. “Ryan? Problem?” Gavin could not say that Geoff wasn’t a brave man, if perhaps at times a stupid one.

Ryan’s scowl darkened so much that Gavin visibly flinched, and he noticed that the quartermaster’s shoulders also seemed to hunch up higher than he thought possible.

“What happened to me doing these missions solo?” The level of venom that dripped from Ryan’s tone was surprising and Geoff’s usually blank expression broke for a moment to show a flash of confusion and shock. 

Slowly, the quartermaster placed his hands upon the metal table, letting a loose sigh escape his thin lips. “This isn’t a one-man job Haywood and Gavin’s the only one with the skills to track their movements as closely as we need.”

Ryan growled, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists. An array of emotions flitted across the older agent’s face so quickly that Gavin would have missed it had he blinked.

He stood abruptly striding over to Geoff and using their slight height difference to loom over the other man. “He’s not going.” He spat out before storming from the room.

***

“I’m going.” Gavin stated firmly as they both got ready for bed. Ryan shot him a withering glare but otherwise did not respond to the declaration.

Gavin watched as he wrenched the blankets down the bed, flopping onto the mattress with a huff before turning on his side with his back to the rest of the room.

Gavin slowly settled in beside him, pulling the blankets back up and then turning off the light. He moved to sit beside Ryan’s still form. The older man was feigning sleep but Gavin could tell from the stillness of his body and the tense line of his shoulders that he was far from it.

“Rye…” He whispered softly, massaging the tension from the other man’s neck. “What’s got you all mingy?”

Ryan grunted dismissively but Gavin dug his fingers into the tendons of his shoulders until the other agent turned to face him. Muted moonlight filtered into the room, providing enough light to illuminate both their faces.

Their stared at each other for many minutes, the soft huffs of their breath the only sound to break the quiet. Gavin searched Ryan’s eyes desperately, taking note of the fear that sat deep within them.

“I have enemies Gav.” The older man mumbled, dropping his gaze as he shifted his arms around the Brit’s waist. “And I am afraid.”

The words shocked Gavin. Of all the things he had thought Ryan might say, this had not been one of them. Ryan was fearless. Ryan was clever, tenacious and determined. Ryan was, well…invincible.

He leant down to place a gentle kiss on the other man’s lips and Ryan let out a soft noise that made Gavin’s heart twinge painfully. It was a desperate sort of whine, a broken and weak sound that Gavin never believed Ryan would be capable of making. 

He huddled close to the other man, stroking his honeyed hair in attempt to soothe the fears that plagued him.

“We’ll protect each other.” He whispered, sighing in relief as he felt Ryan begin to relax. “We always do.”

******************

The overly sweet scent of damp soil and rotting leaves filled Gavin’s senses. The air was a thick soup of moisture and heat that left the British agent feeling sluggish and weak. Beside him Ryan shifted slightly as he placed his weight more on his left leg then his right.

They both strained their ears to hear more than the chatter of the jungle around them but they had no hope of isolating the snap of a twig or a heavy footstep within the medley of animal cries and rustling leaves.

A sharp crack reverberated through the trees, the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot bouncing from thick tree trunk to thick tree trunk. Ryan stiffened slightly, settling his carbine rifle more firmly upon his knees. 

“Wait here,” he murmured, standing swiftly and bending to brush the dried mud from his shins, “I’ll be back soon.”

Gavin watched helplessly as Ryan strode between the trees, soon disappearing within the gloomy twilight of the equatorial forest. Dread extended its cold fingers within him, icy tendrils closing around his heart and clawing at his stomach. Sweat dripped steadily down his forehead, although if it was from the heat or his own uneasiness he could not tell.

Gavin slowly allowed himself to relax, leaning his back against the stone wall of the well they had found in the centre of the clearing. The well was much deeper than one might expect, extending at least 200 metres below the soft, rotting earth to an underground river. Ryan had whistled at the drop before bending down and taking cover behind it’s crumbling wall.

But now, as Gavin sat watching and waiting for Ryan to return or for anything to happen really, he couldn’t help but wonder how on earth they had got to this point in the first place.

***

The day had dawned still and heavy and Gavin had awoken to find himself drenched in sweat. The balcony door was ajar and outside Ryan stood, like a stone sentinel, as he surveyed the sprawling mass of Medellin. 

Gavin didn’t bother putting on a shirt before coming to stand beside his partner and join him in watching the dirty streets below. An endless array of scooters, bikes and beaten up utes trundled up and down the rutted roads that wove through the decrepit buildings like a spider’s web, making it seem as if the streets were the very veins of city. 

Gavin shook himself from his trance and touched Ryan gently on the shoulder. The taller man did not respond aside from a tightening of his knuckles around the balcony railing. “Get much sleep love?”

Ryan gave him a negative sounding grunt before turning from the scene and re-entering the stifling sauna that was their hotel room. Gavin followed him and both dressed in silence, grimacing as they pulled on thick black jumpsuits and heavy combat boots.

The cool metal of his pistol allowed a moments relief from the all-encompassing heat as he tucked it through the hole in his suit and into the waistband of his boxers. Next, he strapped two knives to his calves before slinging an SMG across his back. Finished with his preparations he waited patiently by the door as Ryan finished readying himself.

The older man had slow, methodical movements that betrayed how lost in thought he really was. Eventually he straightened, pleased with his level of armament, and crossed to the doorway in two strides. He met Gavin’s fierce gaze and the Brit could have sworn that a spark of pride flashed within the ice of his eyes before they darkened once more into a sombre expression. 

They quickly left the hotel and forced their way through the stifling crowds until they stood in front of a crumbling, old warehouse. White paint peeled off every wall and the roof slumped inwards; unable to hold the weight of its own rust.

They had carried out their mission with a cold efficiency that came from years of working for The Agency and Gavin felt nothing but emptiness as he shot down drug runner after drug runner. Eventually the warehouse was empty of everything except the two agents and a pile of corpses. Gavin kept watch of the multiple entrances as Ryan searched the dead. His exploration seemed to grow more and more frantic, although he would not tell Gavin what he was in fact searching for.

Ryan swore violently and Gavin wrenched his eyes from the back entrance he had been surveying to see what had upset Ryan so. The older agent was pale – all blood drained from his face as he stared at the torn lucha libre mask clutched between his fingers.

“What’s wrong Rye?” Gavin called, tightening his grip on his SMG as he picked his way between the bodies, “It’s just a bloody wrestling mask.”

Ryan only then seemed to realise that Gavin was still with him and even more blood left his whitened cheeks. “We have to get out of here.” He spoke abruptly, grabbing Gavin by the wrist and dragging him towards the side entrance they had broken into.

He offered no word of explanation as he hot-wired a dented dirt bike but Gavin did not hesitate to hop on as Ryan revved the engine. They sped away from the warehouse, weaving between cars and people alike as the two agents sought to put as much distance between themselves and the centre of the city as they could.

Before long Gavin noticed that they were not alone in their flight and he watched with apprehension as a black armoured car drew steadily closer. Gavin notified Ryan of this development with a couple of urgent shouts that were almost lost to the wind that tore at their hair and clothes. 

Ryan changed his course yet again, crashing up an embankment and into a cluster of trees even as gunfire began to spray in the street below. They had ditched the bike then, forcing their way through the jungle on foot. Gavin questioned Ryan every chance he got but the older man would give him no explanation other than a harsh pant of “I told you I have enemies Gav.” the first time he had tried.

Gavin thought he heard shouts behind them but he could be certain of nothing other than the mud beneath his boots and Ryan’s ragged breathing echoing in his ears.

***

Gavin was startled from his musing by the echoing snap of a rotten branch. He sat up immediately, settling into a crouch and swinging his gun to aim at the direction from which the sound had come.

A rich voice called behind him.

“So this is the twink Haywood’s been fucking.”

Gavin spun around to face ten or so men, they all happened to be aiming rifles at him.

He put his gun down slowly, never taking his eyes off the leader who regarded him with a smug expression. He recognised the man from the mission file, although Gavin was confused as to why he was here. The man was a high-profile Mafia leader who dealt with most of the drug gangs within the region. The brief had said that the man – his name was Martin Lutano Gavin recalled – would be stuck in Cuba at the present moment, embroiled in Mafia disputes. Evidently, the brief had been wrong.

The man spoke quickly in Spanish before two of his body guards stepped forward and shoved Gavin roughly to the ground. His arms were pulled behind his back and he hissed as a zip-tie was secured tightly around his wrists – the plastic bit into his skin and hot blood welled to the surface.

He studied Lutano closely even as other man scrutinised him. His skin seemed paper thin and was pulled tightly over gaunt cheeks and a sharp jaw. His eyes were the colour of mud and were incredibly bloodshot. He seemed slight compared to the hulking men that surrounded him but Gavin noticed the chorded muscle that strained along his neck, disappearing into his shirt.

Gavin forced himself not to panic, trying and failing to convince himself that Ryan was coming to save him. He couldn’t help but picture the other agent lying dead in the jungle, his body littered with knife gashes and bullet wounds. But he couldn’t have been shot or stabbed – Gavin would have heard it.

Lutano walked closer, grasping Gavin’s jaw between his stubby fingers and twisting his head from side to side. “I can see the appeal.” He murmured, his voice seemed to hiss like a snake, “Maybe once we’re done with Haywood we can have some fun with his little European import.”

Gavin snapped his teeth and spat at him, glaring at the man with all his might. The Mafia boss only chuckled, motioning with his hand to someone behind Gavin. Gavin turned to look at the guard who stood behind him but he only caught a glimpse of the butt of a rifle before it smashed into him and his eyes rolled backwards.

Everything descended into darkness.

***

Gavin groaned as he regained consciousness, his head felt as if it was filled with stones. The soft light of the jungle stabbed at his eyes as he opened them and he released another pitiful moan.

It was at this moment that an enraged roar tore through the clearing and Ryan stormed out from the mass of gnarled and twisting trees. He fired twice in quick succession and Gavin heard heavy thuds as men fell to the ground.

The remaining guards snarled in return and began firing haphazardly towards the trees behind which Ryan had taken cover. Lutano stood back from the fighting, appearing bored with the proceedings as another two of his men dropped with bullets between their eyes. 

There were three body guards left when the Mafia lord finally stepped over to Gavin’s slumped form and pulled him up roughly. A pistol was shoved into his neck and Gavin gagged as it knocked his throat. “Oh Haywood!” Lutano seemed to sing out his challenge and the gunfire ceased. 

Ryan lowered his gun – though the other men did not – as he directed his full fury towards the Cuban. “Let him go Lutano,” he growled, eyes blazing with a bloodlust Gavin had never seen before, “Your issue is with me, not him.” Lutano’s vice-like grip tightened around Gavin’s neck and the Brit let out another choked gargle as his airway became even more restricted.

“I rather figured killing your fuck-buddy would teach you a lesson Agent Haywood.” The snake-like quality of his voice was amplified as the hissing echoed around the clearing. 

“I’d like to see you try.” Ryan snarled back before raising his gun and firing. However, for all Ryan’s skill and prowess, Lutano was quicker still.

He dropped Gavin to the ground while at the same time firing at Ryan’s chest. His bullet embedded in his partner’s sternum even as Ryan’s own projectile whizzed harmlessly by. Gavin cried out and struggled to break his restraints. The zip-tie only tightened and more blood began dripping down his wrists – Gavin struggled harder.

Three more cracks punctuated the thick, humid air and three more bullets embedded themselves in Ryan’s upper torso. He stumbled backwards, crashing into the crumbing wall of the well. Gavin screamed so loudly that he began to choke on his own blood – but he could hardly feel it.

Time had stopped for the moment; even his thundering heart ceased movement. Gavin raised his streaming eyes to meet Ryan’s pained and desperate gaze. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, splashing to the ground like some sort of grotesque fountain.

A small smirk twitched at Ryan’s lips and he raised his hand jarringly, as if the effort caused him more pain than he could bear. He gave Gavin a salute, self-satisfied grin still twisting his pale lips.

And then the well collapsed inwards – Ryan falling with it.


	2. And Dust to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flash of red in his peripherals diverted his attention for the moment and Gavin slowly turned his head towards the distraction. 
> 
> A man, tall and broad shouldered was standing still in the midst of a fast-moving crowd. A red cap was pulled over his face but Gavin could make out rough golden stubble and dirty blond hair. He shook his heady ruefully, turning his attention back to the bar entrance. 
> 
> He was seeing him everywhere these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me it's 3am.
> 
> I almost lost this whole chapter twice - perhaps the universe was telling me something.
> 
> Nah but seriously, please enjoy.

Chapter TWO: And Dust to Dust

Gavin was still screaming when the zip-tie broke, taking pieces of flesh with it.

He did not think before pulling both of his hidden knives from their sheathes. He spun quickly on one foot, pivoting to face Lutano directly. The man’s face was riddled confusion and Gavin did not give him the chance to recover – he plunged one knife into the Mafia boss’ neck and slid the other between two of his left ribs.  
Gavin would have liked to watch the man die; see the cruel light fade from those muddy eyes and laugh as his own blood bubbled from between his lips. Instead, he turned to face the three remaining guard’s, snagging Lutano’s pistol as he stepped past the corpse. 

One thug collapsed as a blade suddenly embedded itself in his throat and his colleagues followed closely behind as bullets tore through their temples and wedged themselves in brain-matter.

Gavin lowered his pistol, fingers still clenched tightly around his remaining knife. He ran towards the well, bracing himself on the more solid section of the wall as he looked down into the bowels of the jungle. 

Ryan was gone.

There was a faint smear of blood upon a rock that protruded from the river – the only sign that anyone had ever fallen there. The agent’s body had been carried away, the river’s incessant current had once and for all ripped Gavin’s partner from his grasp.

He backed away from the well, falling to his knees beside Lutano’s now lifeless form. All was quiet in the jungle, the animals having fled once the bullets started firing; even the swirling eddies of humid air had ceased for the moment. 

His arms felt like lead as he raised them, but he spent what little strength he had left to plunge the knife back into the Cuban’s chest. Gavin held his position for a moment before releasing his hold on the now bloodied hilt. He stumbled to his feet and began to limp his way from the clearing. The canopy above blocked out the dying rays of afternoon sun.

But Gavin did not hesitate to walk into the darkness.

 

******************  
18 MONTHS LATER  
***

 

The streetlight flickered and dimmed as the man hurried by, as if it sensed his need to hide in the shadows of the night. He slipped from the main street and into a back alley, stumbling as his shins collided with a stack of broken wooden pallets.

Winter had Berlin firmly within its hold and fat flakes of snow were now falling steadily from the heavy, grey clouds above. The man did not appreciate this development – it made it far easier for someone to follow him.

He increased his pace, struggling to see through the white curtain of sleet. Despite the cold, sweat dripped from his neck and down his back. The man rounded a corner, groaning in frustration as he was met with a chain-link fence.

He turned to leave, already planning to backtrack out of the alley and return to the main street – at least there were witnesses there. He froze as snow crunched behind him.

A stranger was leaning on the fence, dressed entirely in black with a silenced pistol raised. He lifted his hands, willing his arms to stop shaking as he took another step backwards. His assailant was tall and lanky and the lack of light made it seem like the shadows dripped from him onto the white snow below.

When he spoke his voice was unmistakeably British, although this was secondary to the menace that gilded his tone. 

“Francis Liebermann.”

Francis could not help but shiver – his name was uttered with such finality, he found himself believing that judgement day had finally come.

His throat was dry and the words stuck to his throat as he tried to stutter out an excuse. “F-forgive me, I didn’t know what I was getting into!” He raised his palms in a placating gesture as the British assassin stepped forward. “I-I swear I didn’t know what they were going to do with the information. You have to believe me!”

The stranger bared a flash of white teeth as he grinned viciously, taking another heavy step forward – the crunch of fresh snow seemed thunderous in Francis’ ears. 

“Begging won’t help you now love.”

Francis crossed his eyes as he tried to stare down the barrel of the gun. He began whimpering, shuffling backwards even as the gunman moved inexorably closer. The Brit smiled again, dark green eyes alight with a murderous glee. 

“Say goodnight Francis.”

 

Frost still clung to the air when morning came; the snowstorm had blown itself out overnight, leaving behind a formidable task for the street cleaners. One such cleaner shovelled out an alleyway that was almost entirely clogged up with snow.

The man was still only half-awake and far too cold to notice a burgundy stain upon the white.

 

******************

 

Michael jumped as the door to the main office flung open, tempered glass cracking back on its hinges. He swivelled in his office chair to see who in fact the new arrival was. His stomach dropped and he sent Meg a nervous glance as Gavin made his way further into the office.

Gavin Free had changed an awful lot in the past 18 months - Michael would call it a haphazard and unstable decline. The British agent had returned from Columbia a broken husk of a man, it was all Geoff could do to get him even talking again.

Then he had resigned from field operations.

And then joined the assassin unit – Ryan’s old post.

Michael hadn’t seen much of him for the 6 months following that drastic change in career path but when the former agent had finally deigned to show his face back in the office he had most certainly…changed.

The man that stood before him now was a grim-faced, perpetually scowling shadow of his once best friend and as far as Michael was concerned, Gavin Free had died with Ryan in Columbia.

Gavin’s dark gaze passed over Michael and Meg without a second of hesitation as he continued down the hall, heavy boots echoing on the polished floorboards. The assassin shoved open Geoff’s office door with hardly a knock and then slammed it behind him.

Michael’s eyes met Meg’s and he found her gaze to hold the same level of concern that he himself felt. They stared at each other for a moment before Meg shrugged and turned back to her work.

 

***

 

“Hey buddy.”

Gavin flinched at Michael’s greeting, clearly surprised that anyone else was in the breakroom. Michael watched him over the rim of his coffee mug as he took a slow, deliberate slurp. Gavin’s sombre eyes were drawn to the ‘Team Nice Dynamite’ logo that was plastered on the front of the porcelain cup.

He softened for a moment, a hint of sadness shining through the deep pools of anger that shrouded his face. Michael went to speak, clutching on to the small opening that Gavin had inadvertently given him. But then the Brit shook himself and all those iron walls came slamming back up.

“Michael.” His voice was far more gravelly then Michael remembered it, perhaps a product of disuse or a large amount of screaming, he couldn’t tell. Gavin’s eyes burned holes in his skin as he stared and Michael found it incredibly difficult to look for long into those red rimmed abysses. 

He forced a laugh and clapped the assassin’s shoulder as he stepped closer – he didn’t miss the way that all of Gavin’s muscles seemed to tense at once. 

“You should come around for Mario Party on the weekend…” He looked around the room as he waited for a response, taking notice of the suspicious red stain on the dishwasher and the footstool Jeremy had placed by the cabinets just that morning.

“…or maybe grab a drink with me and Meg now that you’re back in town.”

Gavin made a noise – if Michael didn’t know any better he would have called it a scoff. The Brit shook his head before standing from the stool he balanced on and walking over to the door.

“Why? You got a problem with me or something?” Michael knew that letting his anger get the better of him at the present moment was perhaps not the wisest idea. 

‘He’s fucking depressed for christ’s sake.’

Gavin paused, halfway out the door and turned back to face Michael. His face was twisted into an ugly expression; something between a sneer and a scowl. “Something like that.” He muttered before once more showing his back to the Jersey agent.

Logical thought disconnected for a brief moment and before Michael knew it, a mug half full of cold coffee was bouncing off the Brit’s back.   
Gavin whipped around this time, lips curled back in a vicious snarl. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Michael puffed his chest out, never one to back down from a fight, although the fire in Gavin’s eyes did leave him questioning his recent decisions. 

“I’m so fucking sick of your shit Gavin. How long are you gonna pull this angry-depressed bullshit until you realise Ryan is never coming back and then get the fuck over it? It got kinda old after the first six months and I think it’s high time you grew the fuck up and started dealing with your problems like a goddamn normal human being!”

Michael heaved in a breath, but he didn’t get to speak again before Gavin had shoved him against the wall, a pistol pushing into his side. They both stared at each other, breath coming in short gasps while Gavin figured out whether shooting Michael was worth it or not.

“Fuck. You.” The Brit all but growled at him, pushing the barrel into his kidney as Michael snarled back. There was a surprised shout before Gavin was wrenched away from him, leaving a fuming Geoff behind.

“Michael. Leave.” Geoff’s tone brooked no room for argument, and Michael raised his hands in defeat, stepping cautiously past Gavin as he left the room. He could still feel the Brit’s murderous gaze upon his back but he ignored it. 

He pushed down the hurt and loss that was threatening to boil over and smoothed his face into a mask of indifference. It wouldn’t do to upset Meg.

 

*********************

 

The cloying scent of expensive cologne filled Gavin’s senses as he was shoved against the kitchen counter. It was soured by the lingering tang of cigar smoke but he didn’t mind – it was reminiscent of gun powder.

Gavin turned to face the man pressed against him, once more taking in the dirty blonde mop and electric blue eyes. He frowned to himself, something was off – face too narrow and skin far too tan. But of course, that didn’t matter – he wasn’t looking to replace anything.

The man hummed thoughtfully as he began peeling Gavin’s skin tight shirt from his body and Gavin shuddered as he licked his lips. He felt sick, revulsion sweeping through him in a wave of heat and nausea.

Calloused thumbs stroked at the ridged scars that circled his wrist – Gavin wrenched his arm from the other man’s grip. 

“Now what kind of trouble gets you that that kind of scar?” The blond’s voice was honey sweet, near patronising as he gazed down at Gavin with undisguised lust.

Gavin swallowed down his rising disgust and instead simpered at the man, layering his accent on thick. “Who said it was trouble love?”

The man chuckled before grasping at Gavin’s hips far too tightly and sticking his tongue down his throat. Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, going pliant in the other’s grip.  
He wanted, needed to feel something. The memories were fading quickly and he didn’t want to forget. Eyes of ice that would trace liquid fire down his back, hands that would worship his body in complete and utter reverence and lips that were a soft as velvet.

The man had his hand’s all over Gavin and his chapped lips worked furiously against the Brit’s own.

And still he felt nothing.

 

******************

 

Gavin shifted uncomfortably in his thick, black jacket, cursing the strength of the Atlanta spring. The afternoon sun was searing and robbed all moisture from the air. His tongue felt thick and heavy in his dry mouth, but he forced down the discomfort for the moment – he needed to maintain full attention on the target.

He scanned the area quickly before letting out a large yawn and checking his phone; it wouldn’t do to let anyone know he was watching the area. He flicked his eyes upwards as a door across the street thudded closed. He forced himself to relax, it wasn’t the bar he was surveying.

His target was a former contractor for RT Agencies – hired muscle here or some high security transport there. But RT had outgrown their services, choosing instead to make a security branch from their own company labelled FUNHAUS.

Needless to say, the contractor had not taken lightly to his sudden loss in income and had taken to sharing classified information about RT activities. Gavin’s instructions were to take him out. Quickly and quietly.

A flash of red in his peripherals diverted his attention for the moment and Gavin slowly turned his head towards the distraction. 

A man, tall and broad shouldered was standing still in the midst of a fast-moving crowd. A red cap was pulled over his face but Gavin could make out rough golden stubble and dirty blond hair. He shook his heady ruefully, turning his attention back to the bar entrance. 

He was seeing him everywhere these days.

 

***

 

The man beneath him was begging pitifully, curled into a ball on the cold warehouse floor. Gavin didn’t say a word as he fired and he felt nothing as he watched the target flail for a moment before going still. 

In the beginning, the killing had made him feel sick. An upset stomach and a bad taste in his mouth would follow him around for days before he’d have to move on and chase down another target. Over time this had simmered down into a mild discomfort before it had finally left Gavin feeling as empty and as cold as he did in every other part of his life. He supposed he should be concerned about that certain development but he had no desire to visit the company psych again.

He shivered as he left the warehouse – the remnants of the winter chill hanging in the air after sundown. Gavin pulled his jacket tighter around him and quickened his pace, eager to be at the motel and that much closer to catching his flight home. He didn’t like Atlanta – it was too close, too painful and it left him feeling raw and on edge.

A prickle at the back of his neck forced him to stop – Gavin was trained far too well to not know when he was being watched. He whipped around, calculating gaze dancing from one patch of shadows to the next.

He stopped his scan by a crumbling brick wall. The flash of red had caught his attention again. The same red cap was pulled over the same mop of blond hair. The stranger looked up and their eyes locked for a moment.

And – 

Gavin stopped breathing. 

The eyes only glinted faintly in the nearby streetlight but they were just as brilliantly blue as he remembered them.

Gavin took another step forward and then another, not daring to breathe and barely daring to hope.

He stumbled in a pothole and the spell was broken – the man took off running, down an alleyway and into the shadows beyond. 

Gavin pursued, his feet flying over the pavement as he shouted after the man’s retreating form. Fence chains rattled as the man vaulted over it, landing heavily on all fours in the dirt. He scrambled back up, casting Gavin a fearful glance before taking off again.

Gavin called out his name – screamed it into the night. But he didn’t stop or hesitate and slowly the pounding echo of his footsteps faded into silence.

 

******************

 

The glass of the office door visibly cracked as Gavin slammed it open.

He stalked down the hallway, ignoring Jeremy’s surprised squeak as he shouldered past him. He paused by the quartermaster’s door, taking a deep breath as his hand closed around the brass handle. 

He opened it smoothly, the oiled hinges bending without complaint. He closed it just as quietly before turning to face Geoff. 

The retired field agent had not yet noticed Gavin was in the room – he was far too engrossed by the mission’s report that was open on his desktop.  
Gavin crossed the room in three strides, clamping his hand around Geoff’s mouth and shoving a gun into his neck.

Geoff made a muffled sound of alarm, fingers scrabbling against the back of the Brit’s hand as he looked up at him in confusion.

Gavin spoke quietly, placing his lips right by the quartermaster’s ear as he dug the pistol in further.

“If you don’t tell me everything right now – and I mean everything – I will shoot you in the neck.”

Slowly, he removed his hand from Geoff’s mouth, although he kept the barrel of his gun firmly nestled against the other man’s quivering Adam’s apple.

Geoff took a shuddering breath, choking slightly as the pressure on his throat hindered the action. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked directly at Gavin. “I – I don’t…know what you are talking about.”

Without hesitation Gavin unclipped the safety – the noise echoing in the spacious office. Geoff looked at him for a long while, studying his every feature as if his face alone would provide all the answers he needed.

As the silence dragged on Gavin felt himself losing hope - he had been so certain of what he had seen.

All at once the anger that had been building since Atlanta seemed to drain out of him, leaving behind an overwhelming exhaustion.

“How- how did you find out?” Geoff finally stuttered out.

And then it all came rushing back.

Gavin could feel bands of steel tightening around his chest, driving the air from his lungs. “I saw him. In Atlanta.” He spoke quickly, acutely aware of how choked he sounded.

The quartermaster released a long, exasperated sigh and ran his fingers through his greying hair. “That motherfucker,” he muttered, leaning back away from the tip of Gavin’s pistol, “That goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Who else knew?” Gavin demanded, feeling his legs begin to shake.

“Me. And Burnie, that’s all.” His former boss looked incredibly tired in that moment and Gavin wondered how much this secret had torn away at him.

He dropped his gun, the cool metal biting into his skin. Geoff heaved another sigh as the loaded firearm finally fell away from his neck.

“Where is he Geoff?” Gavin’s voice was barely a croak now, he had barely enough air to make any sound. He grabbed roughly at the other’s shirt when he didn’t respond. “Where the fuck is he?”

 

******************

 

Ryan sighed as he noticed the fresh layer of dust that covered his caravan – the orange granules stood out starkly from the white decal. He stepped awkwardly from his car, arms laden down with plastic grocery bags.

He fumbled in his pockets, searching for his keys as he waddled up to the door. He stopped, hands stuck in his pocket mid-search.

The door was ajar.

Slowly, he let the groceries drop to the ground beside the steps. He cursed to himself as he realised he’d left his gun inside and instead reached down to his calf to pull the throwing knife from its sheathe.

The caravan was dark when he stepped cautiously inside - curtains drawn and lights off, just as he had left it. He began to relax, lowering the knife and shaking his head at his own paranoia. He’d probably just forgotten to lock the door.

Then he heard the unmistakeable click of a gun.

He whirled around to face the intruder, knife raised once more.

His heart skipped a beat. Warmth rushing upwards from his toes just as cold began to trickle down into his chest and stomach.

There was a muffled thud as the knife dropped to the dirty carpeted floor. Ryan raised a placating hand, stepping slowly towards the man that sat at his kitchen table.

“Gavin.”

 

***

 

“Gavin.”

Just the sound of his name, spoken in that rich and melodious voice set Gavin’s blood alight. He locked the elbow of his gun arm, adjusting his aim so that it was now pointed at Ryan’s head.

“Don’t take another step or I’ll shoot you dead right here.”

A brief flash of surprise danced its way across Ryan’s face before he smoothed his expression back into a calm, apologetic mask.

Gavin’s eyes narrowed as the taller man raised one foot and planted it firmly on the ground in front of him. The Brit swung his arm down and fired at the space between Ryan’s feet.

The thunder of the gunshot rang in both their ears as Ryan gazed at Gavin in complete shock. Gavin stared right back, hoping that his bloodshot eyes conveyed all the anger and hurt that was coursing through him.

“You explain everything right now or I’ll kill you.”

Ryan paused for a moment, once again extending his arm out towards the British agent.

“Gavin, come on, put the gun down.”

“I mean it!” His voice was shrill, betraying his rising hysteria and panic. His arm began to shake uncontrollably, pistol tilting downwards as his grip loosened.  
Ryan took his chance, leaping forward and knocking the gun out of his hands before springing backwards away from Gavin’s reach. They both eyed each other off, breathing heavily as they took the time to assess the situation.

It was Gavin who broke the silence; “I mourned you,” he whispered bitterly, hot tears spilling down gaunt cheeks, “I spent the last year trying to get you out of my head, trying to not let you destroy me. I cried for weeks Ryan! I would sit by the door and just pray that you’d come through it. You don’t know how long it took me to let you go!” He broke off in a choked whimper, reaching up his hand to furiously scrub his tears away.

Gavin lurched towards Ryan, clenching his fists before bringing them down on the others chest. “Don’t you understand!” His scream ricocheted around the caravan as he continued to pound against the older man’s ribs. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! You left me behind, you never said goodbye. You’re not fucking real. And. I. Hate. You!” Gavin stumbled backwards, collapsing into his chair as his words dissolved into a series of broken gurgles.

Ryan shuffled forward once again, holding his hand out for Gavin. “Gav,” he began softly, voice brimming with guilt and regret, “Gavin touch me. See that I’m real, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Gavin was almost too weak to lift his arm, his hand trembled violently as he strained to feel Ryan’s skin. He was still so afraid. Terrified that he would be cold, that he’d disappear like mist before the sun. 

That Gavin would wake up like he had so many times before.

His hand was enveloped by two very warm, very solid palms and then Ryan was tugging him out of his seat and into his embrace. Familiar arms wrapped tightly around him and then Ryan was sobbing into his hair, letting apology after apology spill from his lips until he dissolved into mindless babbling.

Ryan pulled back eventually, smiling weakly as he brushed at the shining tear trails that littered Gavin’s cheeks. He led them both to the bed, curling around the Brit in a way that was so achingly familiar it forced tears back to both pairs of eyes.

Ryan stroked Gavin’s hair, hushing him as the whimpers began to spill forth once again. He tightened his grip around the Brit, feeling dangerously protective of the sobbing man beneath him.

He placed his lips by the others ear, humming softly while he waited for the shudders to fade away.

“I’m going to tell you everything.”

 

***

 

“It started after that mission in Saigon.” Ryan could feel the words, the memories, building up in the back of his throat and threatening to burst forth.

“You wondered why I was so shaken after that mission Gav. It was because I saw someone who was supposed to be dead.”

He felt the Brit start beneath him and he reached down to draw slow, gentle patterns on his clothed stomach. The repetitive action soothed himself as much as it did Gavin.

“I went straight to Burnie and Geoff and told them all the little things that had been adding up over the past months. They figured out that an entire task force had been developed for the sole purpose of killing me.”

Ryan swallowed thickly, remembering the eyes that always seemed to be on him – the set of footsteps that seemed to follow him everywhere…

“They had connections on every continent, they had eyes everywhere and it was only a matter of time before they caught up to me.”

“It was Geoff who figured out they were going after you. They’d grown tired of my evasions and they thought the quickest way to bring me down was to strike right at the heart of my weakness. There was nothing I could do Gav, they told me that I couldn’t go after them while they knew I was still alive, but I wouldn’t be alive for long if I didn’t go after them.”

The older man took a breath, tasting salt on his tongue as tears dripped down into his mouth. “The afternoon Burnie gave me the orders…you have to understand it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. He told me that they wouldn’t buy it unless you didn’t know. He knew they’d have eyes on you afterwards and if you weren’t grieving then they’d know it was all a lie. I had to go after them when their guard was down. What kind of person expects to have a dead man coming after them?”

He felt Gavin tense beneath him and he tightened his own grip around the other’s waist. “I was wearing body armour that day Gav – there were blood packets strapped all along my torso. And the well was deep, someone had dug it out for me so I could land in the river and then swim away.”

Gavin sat up abruptly, pushing his arms away as he moved towards the edge of the bed. He took a shaking breath; “You’re telling me that you couldn’t trust me enough to play the grieving lover? That you’d rather watch me destroy myself than believe that I could protect your secret?”

Ryan reached for Gavin’s shirt, trying to pull him backwards. The Brit twisted out his grip, “Don’t you dare touch me.” He growled before pushing away from the bed and running out the door.

 

******************

 

Ryan had returned to the Austin offices a hero. His back had been bruised from the number of friendly thumps and claps on the shoulder he had received.

All the younger agents were in awe of him and they treated him with a cautious reverence that made Ryan’s skin itch.

Gavin had been notably absent upon his return. Geoff had informed him that the Brit had taken extended leave and gone back to England for the time being. The quartermaster’s sleepy eyes had been filled with understanding and sorrow, but the look only made Ryan feel worse.

“He’ll come around Haywood. I promise you, he can’t be angry forever.”

 

******************

 

2 months.

Gavin had been gone 2 months.

Every time he heard footsteps in the hallway or the creak of an opening door Ryan would whip around, searching frantically for the Brit’s tan skin among the other agents.

He grit his teeth as he turned dejectedly back to his computer for the fourth time that hour. He stared numbly at the screen for several minutes before he finally shook himself from his moody stupor.

‘Enough is enough Haywood.’

He began to type furiously, feeling reckless and foolish but determined all the same.

2 months was long enough.

 

***

 

Gavin sat slumped in an old, lumpy arm chair, gazing blankly at the television as the six o’clock news began to play. The hum of London traffic filtered through an open window, mixing with the sharp tones of the reporter. It all seemed to meld into a discordant buzz of white noise to Gavin.

He sighed, shifting slightly as his back began to cramp. His skin had a grey tinge to it and his hair was greasy. He was clad in a threadbare undershirt and faded sweatpants which sat halfway up his shins. He felt dirty and unkempt. He felt heavy and tired.

But most of all Gavin Free felt empty.

He jolted as knuckles rapped twice on his apartment door. He stood up quickly, groaning as a wave of dizziness hit him and his vision blurred. “Bloody hell B,” he grumbled, stumbling his way towards the door, “I already told you I don’t want to go out.” He wrenched open the door, completely prepared to tell his British companion to ‘fuck off’, but the words were stolen from him.

Ryan stood on the other side of the threshold, clothes rumpled and hair a mess. He looked exhausted, azure eyes dimmed with a long-lasting tiredness. He had never looked more stunning to Gavin.

“Ry -” Gavin didn’t have the strength to force the entire name out. He stepped several paces backwards in shock and Ryan took this as an invitation to come in.

“Ryan!” Gavin snapped, having recovered the use of his vocal chords, “Why on earth are you here in bloody London for Christ’s sake.”

His powers of speech were very quickly stolen from him once again as Ryan dropped to his knees before him, taking one of Gavin’s closed fists and pressing his trembling lips against it.

“Gavin.” Ryan rasped, turning his shining gaze upwards, “I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry, you never deserved any of this, I fucked up everything and I just -” He choked slightly, taking a breath before continuing, “I just need you to know that everything is my fault and I know I’ve fucked it all up. But I needed to see you and hold you and convince myself that you were okay, that you were -”

He was cut off once again as Gavin’s slender fingers wrapped around his arms and pulled him upwards. Green eyes gazed into blue, conveying all the hurt, loss and fear that had never been put into words. 

Ryan cupped Gavin’s cheek, pressing their foreheads together as they breathed each other’s scent. And then they were kissing.

Their movements were slow and tender, as if both were afraid that the other would break if they pressed too hard. But behind the caution there was a raw desperation that couldn’t be contained for long.

Gavin was the one to break that barrier, clawing at the older man’s hair and biting harshly at his lips. Ryan was pushed back towards the bedroom, the two men still fused at the mouth as they meandered their way through Gavin’s apartment.

At one point Ryan stopped to hoist Gavin’s legs up around his hips and then they were kissing again, tongues delving deep inside to plunder and to claim.

 

The London traffic slowly faded away as they moved together, Ryan’s slow huffing breaths and Gavin’s airy groans filling the silence it left. 

Gavin felt whole for the first time in a very long time. He felt fire and he felt love. He could feel Ryan’s soft skin brushing against his own. Those velvet lips kissing at his neck, along the sweeps of his collarbones and over the ridged scars that circled his wrists.

For the first time in a very long time Gavin felt something.

 

***

 

Ryan’s heartbeat was as steady as a drum. Gavin hummed contentedly, pressed against the other’s warm chest.

Ryan was playing with his hair, twisting the curls between his fingers and smoothing over the ruffled patches he had created. He was breathing deeply, on the verge of sleep. 

A sudden panic gripped at Gavin’s heart, he stopped breathing and a cold fire raced through his veins. He crawled up Ryan’s chest, taking the other’s face in his hands so he could feel the skin and the stubble beneath his fingertips.

Any moment now the man beneath him would fade away and Gavin would wake up, sobbing and shaking as he cried for a man who wasn’t there.

“Gavin?!” Ryan’s deep voice swirled around him, muffled as though Gavin was surrounded in water. The older man turned them both on their sides, tangling their legs and pulling the Brit tightly against his chest.

“I was scared you weren’t real. That you weren’t there.” Gavin mumbled against Ryan’s chest, relaxing as the other man’s warmth began to break through his panic.  
Ryan hushed him gently, tucking Gavin’s head under his chin as he began to stroke his back.

“We come back to each other.” He murmured, beginning to hum a soft and lilting melody.

“We always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I capable of writing a non-cliche ending?
> 
> No.
> 
> Do I care?
> 
> No.
> 
> Hope you liked it :))))


	3. Breath to Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin's needs reminding.  
> And Ryan needs reassurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much for Purple Huntress and others as well, because I felt bad for dumping so much angst.  
> Here is some fluff...or as fluffy as I can go.
> 
> I keep forgetting I'm no longer aiming to make my English teachers cry.

Chapter THREE: Breath to Breath

The mansion was extravagant.

White pillars and polished floors, a warm light that stretched from numerous chandeliers; Gavin wondered how Burnie kept finding them.

The party was being held in honour of Ryan’s (and Gavin’s return) although Gavin had a feeling Burnie was itching to spend some agency money and saw their homecoming as the perfect excuse.

Gavin was annoyed.

Ryan ‘the phoenix who rose from the ashes’ Haywood was the man of the hour. Every agent from field ops to government infiltration had lined up to shake the hand of his bloody boyfriend!

For the first hour Gavin had clung to his side, arms wrapped around the taller man’s waist and head resting on his shoulder. But he had gripped tighter and tighter as the meaningless platitudes and gushing praise of his colleagues continued to pour forth before he had taken to fidgeting – fiddling with Ryan’s suit jacket and shuffling his feet continually. Ryan had grown irritated; repetitive conversations and Gavin’s restless movement compounding into a clenched jaw and a sharp jab into the Brit’s side.

So, Gavin had retreated to the bar – a position he was by now well familiar with. He wondered how many more times he would find himself slumped at a bench while he watched his boyfriend soak up all the attention. He stared moodily into his drink, counting the seconds it took the room temperature whiskey to melt away the ice.  
Patillo’s booming laugh echoed in the function room as he and Ryan shared some inane joke. Gavin grit his teeth, downing the whiskey in one gulp before motioning for another.

 

The hours bled away and still Ryan was surrounded. He could see Meg’s bright hair as she leant on the other agent’s shoulder, the vermillion tresses a startling shade of red compared to the russet curls of Michael who stood beside her.

Gavin was quite drunk. Even he would admit that at this point. He swayed on his stool, blinking blearily as the chandeliers seemed to pulsate with the beat of the music. His annoyance had simmered down to a quiet resentment, with a touch of jealousy thrown in.

It had been four days since they had returned from London and only two bloody damn months since Gavin had discovered that his boyfriend was in fact, still alive. He felt entitled, at the very least, to almost all of Ryan’s attention now that he had returned to the land of the living.

He gulped down his half glass of honey coloured liqueur before standing shakily and stumbling his way towards the knot of people that hid Ryan from view. He pushed his way through the crowd before latching onto Ryan’s right arm.

The older agent gave him a bemused glance before returning to his conversation with the trainee agents; Burton and Blanchard. Gavin gave a soft huff before stretching up on his toes to whisper in Ryan’s ear.

“Stop being such a smeg pot.”

His ‘quiet’ murmur had apparently carried more than he had expected it to, if the confused glances and abrupt thinning of the crowd were anything to go by.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, his face a mixture of amusement and affectionate irritation. “You’re drunk.” He stated simply, carefully prying the Brit’s vice like grip from his bicep. He studied Gavin’s face for a moment, taking note of the high flags of colour that decorated his cheeks and the glassy film over his eyes. The older agent sighed, reaching up to steady the younger man as he began to sway. “And I think it’s time to take you home.”

Gavin gave a happy little hum, not resisting as Ryan half-carried him out the door.

 

***

 

The warmth of the shower and three glasses of water sobered Gavin up considerably, although he still felt a pleasant buzz thrumming through his body as he sat patiently on Ryan’s bed.

The older agent emerged from his ensuite, hair fluffed up and chest bare. He collapsed beside the Brit, pulling him closer before drawing the top sheet over both of them. 

Gavin let out another hum before sprawling himself across Ryan’s chest, nestling his ear right over his left pectoral. The steady beat of his heart lulled Gavin and he sighed happily as Ryan’s fingers tangled in his hair.

This was a habit he had developed since they had been reunited and Gavin found he couldn’t get to sleep without the base lullaby of Ryan’s pulse to carry him into unconsciousness.

“…Love you Ry.” He mumbled, closing his eyes and snuggling further into the other man’s warmth.

Ryan echoed the sentiment, kissing Gavin’s damp locks before turning off the light.

 

*********************

 

The restaurant was fairly quiet, most of the patrons had gone before nine. The wait staff meandered casually through the sprawl of tables, pausing occasionally to take orders for dessert or another glass of gin.

Gavin scraped his spoon around the edges of his plate, collecting the last dredges of chocolate syrup before popping the entire utensil in his mouth. He slurped loudly, licking the metal clean before dropping the spoon back onto the dish with a clatter.

Ryan smiled at him from across the table, shaking his head lovingly at the Brit’s childish antics. The muted candlelight cast his face in half-shadow – softening his edges and making his eyes gleam like polished crystal. 

The older agent reached for Gavin’s hand under the table, squeezing it gently as they gave each other matching grins. Eventually, Ryan dropped his gaze, shifting nervously as he smoothed the wrinkles from his dress shirt.

“What’s the problem love?” Gavin let out a laugh as Ryan jolted at his sudden question, flicking his eyes back to Gavin’s steady stare before immediately looking away again. His shoulders hunched up for a second before dropping back down as he let out a heavy sigh.

Gavin rolled his eyes, squeezing Ryan’s hand a little more firmly. “I don’t even think you were this nervous when you asked me to be your boyfriend Ry.” 

They both giggled at that, a clear memory of Ryan dropping ice-cream all down the front of Gavin’s slacks coming to the forefront of both their minds.

After several moments of silence, Ryan reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a padded box which he placed gingerly on the table cloth. Gavin gaped for a moment before snapping his eyes back up to his partner.

“What’s this then love?”

Ryan fidgeted for a moment before reaching down to open the box. Inside, nestled on white satin, was a simple gold chain. Intricate lines were carved into the twisting metal bands and a small ‘R’ was stamped on the centre link.

Carefully, Gavin lifted the chain up to eye level, marvelling at the way it sparkled in the candlelight. He was faintly aware that Ryan had pushed away from the table and was walking around to stand behind him. Strong hands took the necklace from him before Gavin felt the cool touch of metal as the older man circled it around his neck. The slight weight was instantly comforting and Gavin let out a content sigh as calloused thumbs rubbed at his collar bones before Ryan’s touch disappeared and he returned to his seat.

“Do…do you like it?” The older man asked tentatively, anxious trepidation evident in the crease of his brow and the earnest shine in his eyes.

Gavin traced the engraved letter softly, the gold already growing warm. “I love it Ry.”

Relief instantly spread across the other man’s face and he reached forward to grab Gavin’s hands once again. “It’s an apology present really,” He let out a nervous laugh before continuing, “It’s sort of meant to say ‘I’m sorry for letting you believe I was dead for a year and a half’.”

Gavin laughed, ignoring the spark of pain which shot through his chest. “I didn’t know necklaces could say so much.”

Ryan’s hands twitched in his grip before he forged onwards; “It’s also because I wanted to give you something that’ll remind you of me…As much as I hate to say it, we’ll still have missions apart and if I’m not there at night I wanted to give you something to assure you that I’m always here for you and that…I love you more than anything.” A faint blush bloomed on his cheeks as he uttered the last few words.

“Even more than diet coke?” Gavin enquired, leaning forward a kiss.

Ryan gave it to him, a tender press of lips that made the British agent melt back into his seat.

“Even more than diet coke.”

 

***

 

Gavin sighed softly as velvet lips began tracing a new path along his lower stomach. Ryan had spent the last 30 minutes reacquainting himself with the Brit’s hip bones and furred thighs and he felt as if he was soaked in the other man’s love and affection.

It was tender and slow and exactly what Gavin needed. He had been weighed down by an overbearing sense of anxiety and uncertainty over the past few days and Ryan’s solid touch and warm attention was gradually stripping his foreboding away. He had yet to find the bounds of the older agent’s perceptiveness and Gavin suspected that he never truly would.

Ryan’s gentle treatment lasted for nearly an hour more. They were the tide against the shore, their rhythm slow but as steady as a heartbeat as they breathed each other in. Their identities seemed to meld for a moment; Gavin felt they were of one skin and one mind as he stared so deeply into the ocean that was Ryan’s gaze. And then Ryan let out a soft grunt, whispering the Brit’s name as he brought them together one last time.

They laid together silently for a while after, Gavin fiddling with his necklace and Ryan tapping a rhythm over Gavin’s ribs. Eventually they settled in each other’s arms, eyes closed and falling together into the embrace of joint slumber.

Gavin tensed suddenly, stretching hands over Ryan’s chest to clutch at his side. He relaxed as he felt the older man’s torso move with the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Lips brushed along the ridge of his ear as Ryan murmured to him. “What’s wrong Gav?”

Gavin snuggled closer, aware that Ryan could feel the metal chain pressing into his skin. “Just checking love, don’t worry.”

The Brit could practically feel the guilt coursing through Ryan, but the older agent said nothing. He brushed his stubbly chin across Gavin’s forehead and stretched his fingers out to trace Gavin’s neck softly.

His touch lingered on the links of the necklace, the pads of his fingertips following the carvings along their aimless swirls. He breathed a little more deeply, making sure Gavin could feel each intake of breath as they drifted off in each other’s hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading yo!

**Author's Note:**

> ......  >: )
> 
> (that coin thing is me venting my frustration about the bullshit extension probabilty question I got in the HSC)


End file.
